Pocket dialing. It happens to all of us. Sometimes you're the victim, and sometimes you're the perpetrator.
Sometimes you pocket dial a good buddy who will understand the situation, maybe bust your balls a little bit about it the next day.......and sometimes you pocket dial an ex-girlfriend at 3 a.m. while at an after-party shotgunning PBR's and smoking three cigarettes at once, and she takes it as a sign that you want to get back together.
Sometimes you get pocket dialed and all you hear is static or rustling, maybe a snippet of conversation.....and sometimes you get pocket dialed and hear the unmistakable sounds of baby-making coming from the other end (this happened to me once, and all I can say is that porn must suck for blind guys. Just having the audio portion leaves a little something to be desired.)
Sometimes you pocket dial someone while you're in the car, singing at the top of your lungs. While mildly embarrassing (especially if it's the Spice Girls, or the Aladdin soundtrack, or you're belting out the robot voice in 'Mr. Roboto' or something) it's still OK. It's acceptable in our society.
But sometimes....SOMETIMES, my friends......you pocket dial someone, while singing at the top of your lungs, to this song. And it becomes slightly less than OK.
I guess I should be thankful that in this instance yesterday, the victim of my pocket dial was NOT an ex-girlfriend. That....might have sent some mixed messages.
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